The Beginning and The End
by Rogue Tomato
Summary: According to the Book of Enoch, Watchers are angels sent to earth to watch over the humans. This is the story of one Watcher, one human, and a journey of redemption. A story told in 52 parts. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story was inspired by the poem _Song of Myself_ by Walt Whitman _,_ but also very loosely influenced by the following: _City of Angels,_ the Book of Daniel, the Book of Enoch, and Disney's _Prep and Landing_ of all things. And by loosely influenced, I truly mean  loosely, for all of the references listed above. Written for the White Elephant Exchange on NFA.

* * *

 **1 –** _ **You shall assume…**_

"It's just one more."

"If I recall correctly, you said that the last time."

A quirk of lips is the only betrayal of amusement. "Well, I mean it this time."

"Pan…"

"I know." A pause. "This one is important. There is no one I trust more."

Another pause, this one longer and profuse with consideration. "And after?"

"You will be granted the Choice."

"You are certain?"

"Of course."

"I'll have your word on this, Pan." Pan frowns at the ultimatum and the immediate response is apologetic. "Forgive me. I am… not myself. Of course you speak the truth. I did not mean to-"

"Peace," Pan interrupts with an outreached hand and a smile of comfort. "You agree to take on this assignment?"

A deep sigh of resignation. "Very well."

"Excellent. I'll arrange for the vade mecum to be delivered to you straightaway."

Silence falls between the two friends, entire lifetimes between the two of them that has eliminated any awkwardness or the unnecessary need to fill the quiet with small talk. It's the same sense of serenity shared amongst everyone seated within the commissary.

Well… mostly everyone.

" _Is that…?_ "

" _Who? Oh yeah, it is! Wow._ "

The conversation is hushed, but loud enough to reach their table, and Pan snorts in amusement at the near-reverence instilled within the words.

" _I've heard that the number is up to eight hundred._ "

" _No way. I overheard Idris say that it's well over a thousand._ "

That elicits an eye roll from Pan's colleague. It appears as though gossip is a universal given, spanning well beyond any and all borders. It is clear that these two are newer recruits and have yet to learn the proper decorum when it comes to encountering a respected elder. Pan is about to mention something witty along the lines of _'youth these days,'_ but it's their comments overheard just before they are out of earshot that stops the words from forming.

"… _must be one of the Archetypes…"_

"… _never human…"_

Suddenly the silence is no longer comfortable. To speak of a former life, or in rare cases a lack thereof, is inappropriate and simply unacceptable. It is only the tugging of a warm hand that prevents Pan from standing and storming after the duo.

"Don't bother."

Pan quirks an eyebrow. "But, what they said about you –"

"Does not merit attention, nor anger." Tired eyes turn to gaze heavily at the youths' retreating backs. "They are merely curious. As we all were when we were initiated." Some of the weight has lifted when their eyes meet again, a familiar glint shining outward, and Pan knows what to expect before it is even said. "Except for maybe you. You've always been a stick in the mud."

"Ha. Ha." Pan deadpans, but is content with the uplift in mood. "Get out of here. I expect you to be fully prepared when the time has come. You have a reputation to maintain, after all."

The reply is nothing more than a brisk nod and a quick wave before Pan is seated alone, thoughts drifting back to the conversation overheard moments ago. An indeterminate amount of time passes before an internal decision is made and Pan is walking determinedly out of the commissary. Perhaps there is some truth to be gleaned from the statement in which attention and anger are not warranted, but that doesn't mean a visit to the mentorship ward isn't necessary.

' _Youth these days',_ indeed.

0-0-0-0-0

 **2 –** _ **Look through the eyes of the dead…**_

Vade mecum are always exhaustive, but they do little to explain why an individual is assigned to a Watcher. It takes experience to read between the lines, to understand what cannot be put into written form, to grasp the true struggles that warrant such an intervention.

Experience this Watcher has in abundance. The gossiping youth were not far off in their observations. Many years have passed… too many to count… when last this Watcher had been human. But it matters little for the forthcoming task, only that the Watcher is qualified to handle whatever lies ahead.

Those on Earth selected to be guided are chosen for many different reasons, and the length of time a Watcher needs to spend among the chosen also vary. Crisis of faith are the most common, and usually the lengthiest. Some humans merely need strength, courage, or a boost of self-worth, and those assignments tend to be brief. And others need special handling… when their situation is unclear outside of the fact that guidance is needed because they are heading down a path that will lead to self-destruction.

Regardless of the time needed, or the reason assigned, the Watcher has a singular purpose: guide their charges until they are no longer needed and ultimately assist them with the Choice.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs has been chosen, and will be this Watcher's final assignment. And like the hundreds of lives that have been guided in the past, the Watcher will not fail.

0-0-0-0-0

 **3 –** _ **The beginning or the end…**_

It's unusually cold for September, leaving the streets mostly abandoned as people seek warmth within their cars or public transportation. Yet Timothy McGee chooses to walk home this evening after drinking one too many shots. The crisp air is doing wonders for clearing his head.

It has been a night of celebration. He and Jim… graduates! FLETC had been nothing like he had expected, but now that is past and he is on his way to becoming an agent. He hopes to get the chance to work alongside Jim in the future.

 _Agent McGee_ and _Agent Nelson_. Tim likes the sound of that.

In Tim's experience, it isn't often that someone gets to go out and live their dream. But becoming an agent of NCIS has been his dream for a long time. It had been difficult to stick with it. He didn't think the lack of support from home would have made such a big difference, but it did. (It was easier now that his parents' divorce was final… his mom felt more comfortable expressing her support when she didn't have his father's commanding presence weighing down on her all the time. Still, it would have been nice to have had her in his corner all along.) It hardly matters now, he thinks, when his goal of becoming an NCIS agent has never wavered.

Graduating from FLETC puts him one step closer to that achievement. He just needs to make sure that Jim doesn't talk him into so may drinks each time they have something to celebrate.

Tim is nearly home when a soft cry pauses his brisk walk. He stops to listen and only moves again when the voice cries out a second time. Crossing the street and entering a small park, he follows the sound to a figure of a small woman. She is on the ground behind an iron bench, lying in the fetal position with her arms wrapped tightly around her body and her long, dark hair concealing her face.

"Miss?" Tim asks, reaching out a tentative hand. "Are you all right?"

The crying suddenly stops and before Tim's hand makes contact with her shoulder, the girl is rolling up to her knees. The moonlight reflects off a silver knife clutched in her left hand as her right hand darts out and digs into his shoulder.

"I am now," she says with a wicked grin.

Tim barely has time to realize that the girl is much older than he initially thought before two rough hands grab his arms from behind and yank him upward. His ankle gets caught on the leg of the bench, causing him to tilt dangerously back into the stranger. He hears a deep grunt as his weight is briefly taken on by the mysterious man before he's brusquely tossed back down. His arms are still behind him so nothing is able to break his fall as his temple slams into the seat of the bench. His vision immediately grays and he's unable to control his limbs as his two assailants stand over him.

"Shit," the woman whispers.

"Check his pockets," the man says and then slim hands are inside his coat and down his pants.

"Sixty-four bucks," the woman crows as she tosses his now-empty wallet somewhere over his head. "What do we do now?"

"Leave him," Tim hears and a moment later, and what little vision he has remaining is eliminated when a boot connects with his head. He doesn't even feel it.

0-0-0-0-0

 **4 –** _ **I witness and wait…**_

Timothy McGee dies on September 28, 2002 at 23:44:13 from a traumatic subarachnoid hemorrhage.

0-0-0-0-0

 **5 –** _ **The hand of God…**_

"It is time."

"So soon?"

"One can never predict such things," Pan says. "You are ready, of course."

"Of course." There may be an eye roll that accompanies the reply, but no one will ever confirm such silliness at a time such as this.

"Then I shall walk with you."

They walk in silence, encountering only a few others on their journey. It isn't until they near their destination that Pan notices that their pace has slowed considerably.

"What is it?" Pan stops and asks, not used to the display of trepidation.

"You told me this one is important. Why?"

Pan cannot help but smile at the question. "You talk of such experience and even of retirement, and yet you ask such a neophyte question? You know that I have no knowledge of such things."

"And yet you know that he is important." The argument is an old one, and not exclusive to this particular Watcher. Generations have asked similar questions when a vade mecum fails to illuminate all of what they wish, but the task still must be accomplished. On-the-job training is a pillar of the Watcher program.

"You've handled several important cases in the past, all without requesting additional information beyond what the vade mecum provides. Why the sudden need to know more about this one?"

A small shrug accompanies the answer. "In previous cases, it was generally easy to discern why a particular individual was deemed important… title, heritage, lineage and what have you. The vade mecum you gave me speaks of a troubled past and a fair amount of trauma. You were right that this is definitely not an assignment that a younger, lesser experienced Watcher, should handle."

"But?" Pan prompts.

"However, it does not speak to why you felt I in particular needed to be assigned, nor the reason why this particular individual is deemed _important_."

"Aren't all chosen people important?"

"Pan…"

"Haven't we been tasked with the protection and guidance of _all_?"

"That's not what I meant, and –"

"Have you deemed yourself _above_ all others and decided that your time is more valuable, and should therefore –"

"Of course not!"

The outburst is not expected, but Pan still smiles at the vexed anger.

"Then why does it matter? I know that you will give this assignment the attention it deserves, the same as you have done to all of the lives you have guided in the past, and those you will guide in the future."

"Of course I will. And we have already established that this will be my final assignment."

"Naturally. Then let us not worry about the importance of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, yes?" A nod of acceptance is all that Pan receives, but it is enough. Pan sighs dramatically. "Unrelatedly, I think I shall be the one to acclimate you this time."

The Watcher's eyes widen and stare at Pan with open shock that is quickly masked. "You… That… I…"

"Lost for words, old friend?"

"I would be honored." The oath is spoken with a slight bow of respect. "Thank you, Phanuel."

"If it is to be your final assignment, then I wish to be a part of it." The words ring with nothing but sincerity, and the two friends bask in the warmth of the connection for a long moment.

"It is time," Pan repeats.

"I shall see you soon, friend."

"Go in peace."

0-0-0-0-0

 **6 –** _ **There is really no death…**_

Timothy McGee is found lying near a park bench on September 28, 2002 at 23:53:19. He wakes during transport to the hospital, and the paramedic assures him that he's going to be okay.

After a neurological exam, cognitive testing, and a CT scan, he is diagnosed with a grade 3 concussion. He is given the option to stay overnight for observation. He accepts, but that's more due to Jim's insistence than any lingering symptoms.

The next morning he is given instructions to continue taking acetaminophen for his headache, and to take it easy for the foreseeable future. An obviously guilt-ridden Jim promises the doctors that his friend will be taken care of, and threatens to call Tim's sister _and_ his mother if Tim puts up any kind of fuss. Tim doesn't wish for either of his female relatives to descend on him, so he readily agrees.

He's discharged with relative ease after attempting to give a report to the police. He can't remember anything of the mugging and attack, which is easily accepted due to the concussion.

Or the alcohol he had apparently consumed.

Tim decides that it hardly matters at this point anyway, since thinking about it makes his head hurt and he would rather avoid doing that if at all possible.

Tim is taken to Jim's apartment, who calls his mom and sister anyway, despite his promise not to. Tim is forced to endure his mother's distress and his sister's concern (that is inconveniently veiled in angry outbursts that only add to the pain in his head) before he can finally curl up on Jim's pull-out couch and sleep.

It is rather odd, he thinks in the few seconds between full wakefulness and sleep, that he cannot remember a single detail of the attack. Why was he in the park in the first place?

He decides to blame his concussion ( _not_ the alcohol) for his confusion. Sleep comes quickly.

0-0-0-0-0

 **7 –** _ **The mate and companion of people…**_

"Do you know who you are?"

"I am Timothy McGee."

"Yes. Good. Do you know who I am?"

"Your name is Phanuel. You are my… My…"

"I am many things, Timothy, but first and foremost, I am your friend. I am also here to help acclimate you to this life. Even with hundreds of years of experience, this can be a disorienting time. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes. At least, I believe so."

"Good. We will speak again soon. Rest."

0-0-0-0-0

 **8 –** _ **I come and I depart…**_

"Do you know who you are?"

"Timothy McGee."

"Indeed. Do you know who I am?"

"Pan, this really isn't necessary."

"Perhaps not, but it has been ages since I have been able to acclimate a Watcher. I am rather enjoying myself."

"Of course you are."

0-0-0-0-0

 **9 –** _ **I am there, I help…**_

"You know, Jhud usually checks in on me once and then leaves me alone, trusting me to do my job."

"That's because Jhud has far too much on his plate and needs to learn how to delegate. Otherwise he'd take this role a bit more seriously and not leave his Watchers behind to familiarize themselves all on their own."

"Jhud does not need your censure."

"No, what Jhud needs is a good kick in the–"

"Pan!"

0-0-0-0-0

 **10 –** _ **Lightness and glee…**_

"You seem rather pleased with yourself."

"I am. I have been offered a position with NCIS at their Norfolk office."

Timothy's smile is contagious and Pan shares in his joy. "That's quite an accomplishment, Timothy. Congratulations."

"Thank you. It's just… it's what I've always wanted, you know? A chance to do real work. Dad always thought it was a cop-out since I didn't follow his footsteps, but it was never that. I never wanted to dishonor my family's tradition. This is a way for me to _respect_ it."

"Of course." Pan's smile fades. "Timothy, this will be my last visit with you unless you summon for me."

Timothy's excitement dims and he nods in comprehension. "I understand."

"Good luck, Timothy." _Good luck, my friend._

0-0-0-0-0


	2. Chapter 2

**11 –** _ **All so lonesome…**_

FLETC did a good job of preparing Tim for what it would be like to be an agent of the federal government. Oh sure, they drill all of the rules and regulations into the students until they are dreaming about them, but there is much more than that. The subtleties and life lessons that aren't written in textbooks. Like explaining how there will be times when a suspect runs, even if they have nowhere to run to. There will be witnesses who are too scared to talk, even after repeated reassurances that, as an agent, he will do everything in his power to keep them safe. There will be cases that cause him to lose sleep, due to a grotesque crime scene or an especially cunning foe.

It did not, however, prepare Tim for the sheer loneliness he feels when he's on the job.

Norfolk isn't exactly what he had thought it would be.

For one thing, he had anticipated working with a team. But all he has here is what he's pretty sure is a mouse living behind a wall and Captain Veitch who doesn't like Tim for reasons he hasn't quite figured out yet. He knows that he is fortunate to have this posting, just as he is certain that it won't be permanent. He has a few other options that he is considering, including a tempting opening at Cyber Crimes in Washington, D.C. He knows that if he took that job, he would at least have some normal human interaction on a daily basis. Not to mention he would be doing something at which he excels.

Another option weighing heavily on Tim's mind is an offer from Bradley Wiggins, a friend from MIT, who has started up his own company designing custom software programs. He knows the money would be nice, and weather out in Santa Clara is infinitely better than it is here, but…

The thing of it is, Tim knows, deep down, that he isn't meant to sit behind a desk all day, tracking down third-rate hackers and wannabes. Nor is he meant to build programs and websites for condescending CEOs on the west coast.

A second reason Norfolk isn't all that it's cracked up to be is his office. It is the size of a closet. Originally he had decorated the small space with mementos from home, but they did nothing but add to the clutter and he boxed them back up and brought them home. He swears he started off with a good filing system, but being the only agent in the office meant he was responsible for all of the tasks that would normally be divided up among several agents. This led to the current state of his office, with papers covering every inch of his desk, his inbox overflowing, his printer jammed ( _again!_ ), and two callers currently on hold while he tries to convince the woman he is currently talking with that there is no possible way her ex-husband stole her German Shepherd and snuck him onto a submarine.

" _You're absolutely right, ma'am, it would be difficult for Loki to find a place to go to the bathroom."_

" _No, ma'am, I doubt he would think the ocean is a swimming pool."_

" _I'm not sure if they make doggie life vests, ma'am."_

" _Yes, ma'am, I am quite certain that it would be impossible for Petty Officer Snyder to sneak Loki on board."_

" _Have you considered checking with local shelters?"_

Every night he tells himself he's happy… that he is where he is supposed to be… that he worked too hard to become an agent of NCIS, that he will not back down, will not give in, and he will work hard to do the best he possibly can.

Each night, he believes his pep talk less and less.

0-0-0-0-0

 **12 –** _ **Threshold…**_

All of that changes when he meets Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

0-0-0-0-0

 **13 –** _ **I go with the team also…**_

The case that introduces Tim McGee to Leroy Jethro Gibbs is certainly bizarre, and it is one of those cases that his instructors at FLETC warned him about losing sleep over. He doesn't think he'll get the image of that body out of his brain for a very long time. Who dumps bodies in acid? I mean, c'mon…

When he had called Director Morrow, he never would have guessed that it would be Gibbs' team that would come to his aid. He knows he shouldn't have been surprised, and meeting Gibbs for the first time aligns something within him that had been off-kilter these past few months.

Gibbs is… intimidating, yes, but more than that. He personifies much of what Tim aspires to be.

He's clearly competent. How he managed to convince Captain Veitch to allow not only him, but Kate, on board the Philadelphia, Tim will probably never know. Gibbs carries himself with such confidence and swagger… it's no wonder why he is the head of the MCRT.

It goes far beyond that initial case in Norfolk.

Tony tells Tim about Gibbs' famous 'gut' instincts, and Tim would laugh and dismiss it if he didn't see it in action each time he's fortunate enough to work alongside him and his team. It's also clear that Gibbs takes every single case to heart, as if each crime committed is a personal assault against him. He's fierce, and loyal, and Tim doesn't think he's ever encountered someone so determined in his life.

But what is also clear is that Gibbs is hurting. A hurt that goes very deep and nearly defines his every word and action.

When Gibbs tells Tim that he's officially a member of his team, it may possibly be the best day of his life.

The thought that being close to Gibbs will make his role as Watcher that much easier doesn't once cross his mind.

0-0-0-0-0

 **14 –** _ **They scorn the best I can do…**_

Kate is dead.

He hadn't been there… hadn't seen it… can't pull himself together enough to even go look at her body, which Tony takes upon himself to point out on more than one occasion.

Timothy has never felt this raw. This vulnerable. He is accustomed to death… it is a vital part of his very job. But this feels different, somehow. Unfair. It does little to change his acrimonious view of Earth and its inhabitants. Perhaps his bitterness stems from too many years in service as a Watcher. He knows he didn't always hold this view.

His thoughts drift to the recruits he and Pan had encountered long ago. He had been young once, like them… naïve. Thinking he could change the world, one person at a time. And if Timothy is completely honest and would simply take a moment to pull himself out of this depth of pity, he could acknowledge that he _has_ done good in the world.

It is just hard to feel that way when a fellow agent… a _friend_ … is lying cold and alone in the morgue.

0-0-0-0-0

 **15 –** _ **I weave the song of myself…**_

When training young recruits of the Watcher program, it is difficult for mentors to explain how one can be human, and yet not. It is nearly impossible to describe the symbiotic relationship between the desires of the flesh and the objectives of the Watcher. Experiences can be explained in words, of course, but until one finishes their first assignment, words never do them justice.

It is easy to get lost in the lives on Earth when there is so much stimulation to weed through. The largest pull being from the innate drive and desires of humanity. Many Watchers get lost in selfish ambitions, unable to ignore the temptations in which they are bombarded every day, and the true purpose of their visit is pushed aside, and their chosen one is often forgotten.

Others stick too closely to their objective, separating themselves from anything and everything that could possibly lead to failure as a Watcher. While this strategy leads to a better success rate, it also secludes the Watcher so much that they often don't realize what effect they are having on those around them while on Earth. While their assignment may be complete, and their mission deemed a success, it can lead to unforeseen ripples for those left behind.

Timothy's own mentor once described it as participating in a dance. One can either lead, or be led.

Thus far, Timothy has been so caught up in the life he's living that he's nearly lost sight of what he is here to do. It has been a long time since he's felt so… alive. The desire to work for Gibbs is genuine, and the work he is doing here is _good_.

But there is a different kind of work to be done.

It's time to get started.

0-0-0-0-0

 **16 –** _ **Ever regardful of others…**_

On the surface, Gibbs doesn't seem like he'd be that difficult to figure out. He's gruff. Blunt. Stubborn. Pushes his agents to work harder, faster, better… He pushes people away, often lashing out at those closest to him with harsh words and head slaps.

But Timothy sees beneath that.

He sees a man who is scared. Scared to let people get close to him, and see the man he really is. Scared to get close to others out of fear of losing someone else he deeply cares about. Because Gibbs is a man who deeply feels. He cares about his agents. He cares about the victims of the crimes his team is tasked to protect.

Regardless of all of that, Timothy still finds himself at a loss of how to proceed. The truth of the matter is Gibbs isn't exactly someone Timothy would call 'approachable.' The similarities between Gibbs and Tim's father are a rather large hurdle to get over. (And Tim has had a fair share of experience trying to deal with that type of personality, thank you very much.) And while Gibbs has a fair share of issues that need to be worked on, Timothy just isn't sure which should be his primary focus. Discovering why someone needs guidance is only the first step.

Actually delivering the help needed is an entirely different matter.

Timothy definitely needs more time alongside Gibbs to develop a plan. He's had problematic assignments in the past, yet something tells him that this one may be his most difficult yet.

0-0-0-0-0

 **17 –** _ **Not original with me…**_

It is rare to cross paths with another Watcher during an assignment, so Timothy is startled when he feels a familiar tug while at a crime scene. He extradites himself from Tony's most recent attempt at gallows humor to step outside. Scanning the crowd just beyond the police tape, he makes eye contact with a young woman who looks devastated.

There is no way to ascertain if he knows this particular Watcher, but he makes his way over to where she is standing, staring at the front door of the home he's just exited.

"I did my best, you know," she whispers.

"Our best is all we can give," Timothy says, offering up a mantra that is common during the mentorship of new recruits. "You should go."

"I know," she replies with a subdued nod. She turns her gaze to Timothy. "Your chosen is close to the end?"

Timothy shrugs. "I don't believe so, no."

"It's hard to tell, though," she warns, and Timothy wants nothing more than to roll his eyes at the seemingly harmless advice because _he knows…_ Chances are he's been doing this for centuries longer than she has, and her counsel is hardly needed.

"Indeed," is all he says, and though he tries to flatten his voice to hide his pointless frustration, something must slip through and her eyes widen for just a moment.

"Farewell, Watcher," she says formally and she quickly walks away, disappearing in the growing crowd just as Tony calls to him from inside.

"McGee! Get back in here!"

Tim sighs, and with one last scan of the gathering of onlookers, he heads back inside.

0-0-0-0-0

 **18 –** _ **Battles are lost…**_

There is an explosion aboard the Bakir Kamir, and for a moment, Timothy believes that he has failed...

He waited too long.

Even if Gibbs somehow survives this… wakes from his coma… Timothy _knows_ he has done his chosen a disservice.

0-0-0-0-0

 **19 –** _ **Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?**_

Gibbs is alive, though not without consequences, and the fallout is unexpected.

Timothy has never once failed in his role as Watcher. It seems unfair that he should do so for the first time on his final mission.

Or perhaps it had been designed to be so from the very beginning… Timothy is no fool, he knows how bitter he has become over the years, even without Pan pointing it out to him on a regular basis. His faith in humanity hangs by a thread, one that becomes more frayed with each life he's assigned to save. His requests to be given the Choice have been denied over, and over again…

Is this punishment?

No… no, it doesn't work that way, and Timothy winces at even considering such a thought.

Gibbs was… no – _is_ – his assignment. They may be 1800 miles apart, but Timothy knows that distance does not stop a Watcher from fulfilling his role. Gibbs may have come close to death, but ultimately he was spared. A warning shot for Timothy, or a second chance, he isn't quite sure, but there will not be any more time wasted in what needs to be done.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was chosen, and he is still Timothy's final assignment.

And like the hundreds of lives that he has guided in the past, he will not fail.

0-0-0-0-0

 **20 –** _ **What am I?**_

"Pan? I need your help."

"I am here, friend. Always."

0-0-0-0-0


	3. Chapter 3

**21 –** _ **The pains of hell are with me…**_

"Timothy, honestly, I have never seen you react with such intensity before. Leroy is fine. Sure, the distance between the two of you may seem insurmountable, but I'm sure that will be rectified somehow. Remember Opal Higgins? That assignment is _still_ spoken of in our hallowed halls. And yes, I am somewhat astounded at how long you have been among your chosen and have yet to cultivate a plan of action. That is very unlike you, my friend. You haven't been drinking, have you? To impair your judgement at a time like this, well… I shouldn't have to remind you of the regulations put in place, nor why they were developed in the first place. You've helped ratify them! Timothy… Timothy, are you even listening to me?"

Timothy groans and rolls over, dislodging the couch cushion he'd stuffed over his head when Pan had first arrived.

"If this is your version of a motivational speech, I think you need to consider _never_ acclimating a Watcher again. Ever."

"This goes well beyond my acclimation duties, my friend. Need I remind you that _you_ summoned _me?_ "

"No, you do not." Timothy sighs and sits, squaring his shoulders and looking directly at Pan. "I know that Gibbs is fine. The explosion was unfortunate and his retirement to Mexico was… unexpected. I am unconcerned that we are currently in different countries. I can manage. I am, however…"

Pan settles down on the couch next to him. "What is it?"

"Why does this assignment have me so unsettled? Never before have I been so lost… so caught up in the life that I am living."

"It happens to many Watchers," Pan consoles.

"But not to me," Timothy very nearly shouts. "Why is this one so different?"

Pan sighs and shifts on the couch so the two friends are face to face.

"What do you remember of your life before initiation?"

The question takes Timothy by surprise. Pan is a staunch believer that one sheds their previous life when they are recruited to be a Watcher, and Timothy has never heard his friend elude to a Watcher's origins, let alone outright ask about it.

"You know I remember nothing," he says, because it is the truth. Too much time has passed that not even the remotest detail of Timothy's life on earth can be evoked.

"I believe that you are so unsettled because the life you led before your time as a Watcher was very similar to Timothy McGee's."

"I _am_ Timothy McGee," Timothy points out automatically, because it is a truth that is instilled in every Watcher in training.

"Indeed you are," Pan agrees.

"I may not remember anything, Pan, but I am quite certain there were no computers when I was last a human."

Pan laughs. "But there is so much more to Tim McGee than just the sum of his talents."

"Indeed there is," Timothy says with a small smile.

"And that is why this time is different," Pan continues. "You said it yourself. Think on why that is, and I think you'll see that you remember much more of your previous life than you realize."

"Why are you bringing this up, Pan?" Timothy asks. "You're never one to discuss previous lives."

Pan leans back into the couch. "Maybe because I am feeling nostalgic now that we are nearing the end of our working relationship. Maybe I see a Watcher in crisis and I don't want to see him fail. Or maybe I've just always liked you best."

Timothy snorts, but Pan continues.

"Regardless of my reasons, I don't like seeing you like this."

"I know," Timothy concedes.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Well, right now, I am going to get ready for work." Timothy stands and heads to his bedroom, poking his head out a moment later. "Opal Higgins, Pan? Really?"

"Admittedly not one of your proudest moments," Pan replies, and laughs when Timothy slams the door in response.

0-0-0-0-0

 **22 –** _ **Balance…**_

Everything aligns when Gibbs takes back his rightful place as team leader. Things had been good under Tony, but Tim hadn't done everything humanly possible to get on Gibbs' team, only to have him retire shortly after. He is thrilled when his life, and NCIS, seems to return to normal.

Timothy does what he can to get closer to Gibbs, learning a little more each day about his fearless leader, and in turn, entrenching himself more in the life he's been leading.

0-0-0-0-0

 **23 –** _ **Them that plot and conspire…**_

At first, it's just another case. Another dead Petty Officer found in Rock Creek Park. Another crime scene to canvas and family members to interview. Tim often wonders why he isn't desensitized yet, but ends up just being thankful that he isn't. He never wants to get used to the cruelty the world is capable of. That way, he still feels like he can do something about it.

It isn't until he's watching Gibbs interrogate their prime suspect that things get interesting. He's alone in the observation room, outside of the technician recording today's proceedings. Tony and Ziva are interviewing the co-workers and neighbors of Tabitha Riley, so Tim watches as Gibbs tears Ms. Riley's alibi apart piece by piece.

"Security footage shows you exiting your apartment complex at 8:30," Gibbs says quietly as he slides the black and white screen capture Tim had printed out just minutes before.

"It's not me," Tabitha insists, barely glancing at the photo before her eyes flick away.

"The parking garage clocked you leaving at 8:35," Gibbs continues.

"It wasn't… I mean, I didn't…" Tim smiles. Gibbs in interrogation mode is a thing of beauty. Tabitha is already caving and it's only been five minutes.

"Why did you kill Petty Officer Mulligan?"

"Look, I told that agent who arrested me… He deserved to die a slow, painful death, but I didn't kill him."

"I know what he did to you," Gibbs says softly, leaning forward in his chair. "That's motive."

"You wouldn't understand," she says angrily and her voice cracks as it raises in volume. "You've never had everyone you cared about ripped away from you. If you had, you wouldn't be sitting there on your high horse, looking down on me… judging me. You would have gone out and done the _exact_ same thing! You would not rest until the son of a bitch that was responsible was _dead_!"

For a long moment, there is nothing but silence. Tim thinks that Gibbs is going to let the quiet continue, the technique usually ending up with suspects spilling more of their story to end fill the void. But this time Gibbs just stands, puts all of the evidence back in his manila envelope, and walks out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Tim hurries out of observation to follow him back to their desks.

"Think that qualifies as a confession, boss?"

"That's up to the attorneys."

Tim sits down behind his desk and wakes up his computer. "I don't know," he muses. "Maybe she'll finally have some peace now that Mulligan is dead."

He's pulling up a report when Gibbs' voice floats across the gap between their desks, the sad tone throwing Tim for a moment.

"No, Tim," he disputes. "I've been where she is. There's no coming back from that."

Tim stares at Gibbs, his report forgotten, and finally _gets_ it.

The vade mecum had eluded to several possibilities of why Gibbs had been chosen, and Timothy's years alongside the man have narrowed the reasons down quite a bit. But he sees now the healing that was never done. The holes that revenge was unable to fill. The faith that has been lost and never reclaimed.

The countless lives that Gibbs tries to protect, when it is really himself that needs saving.

The victims Gibbs has spent his lifetime pursuing justice for, when he's never forgiven himself for the justice he delivered.

Timothy knows what needs to be done. But when the time comes, will Gibbs listen?

0-0-0-0-0

 **24 –** _ **It shall be you…**_

Tabitha Riley has an accomplice… a vital piece of information not discovered until Tim steps in front of a bullet meant for Gibbs during what must be some sort of botched escape-slash-rescue attempt.

As he's lying on the ground, blood pooling around his unresponsive body, a fleeting memory surfaces for just a moment. Of another time he'd been ambushed. Hurt. Dying. _Dead?_

The memory is gone as quickly as it arrives, and Tim blacks out to Tabitha's screams and the face of his boss looming over him.

0-0-0-0-0

 **25 –** _ **Waiting in gloom…**_

Pan hovers in the waiting room, watching in silence as Tim McGee's friends talk with one another in quiet tones. Though Pan has been keeping an eye on Timothy when possible, this is a rare opportunity to see the type of life Timothy has been living, and the effect he has on those around him.

They talk about the twist of their latest case, and the criminal currently being interrogated back at NCIS. The man named Tony expresses regret over not discovering the connection between Ms. Riley and her accomplice at an earlier date. The woman named Ziva expresses anger over not seeing the shooter before the shot was fired, and Pan smirks at her fierce protectiveness.

So much guilt over what has transpired.

So much love for their co-worker, and friend.

Pan's smile grows when Leroy Jethro Gibbs blows into the waiting room like a hurricane, the concern for his fallen agent poorly hidden behind a mask born from years of practice. The man is pure energy and force, and Pan immediately sees why Timothy struggles to penetrate his armor.

A doctor joins the group a short time later, describing the surgery and Agent McGee's prognosis. The tension in the room dissipates at the favorable news, and Pan concludes it is time to go.

There will be plenty of time to talk to Timothy after his friends have finished hovering.

0-0-0-0-0

 **26 –** _ **The faint tones of the sick…**_

It is only after Tabitha has officially been transferred out of NCIS custody… after the man who shot Tim successfully arrested and sent to holding for the night… after phone calls have been made to Tim's mother and sister… it is only after all of these things that Gibbs finally settles down in a chair next to his agent's bed. It's nearly dawn, the hospital is quiet, and Gibbs take a moment to take stock of the situation.

Gibbs isn't one to sit idle when there is still work to be done, but the fact of the matter is that Tim McGee may have very well saved his life today. He'd been the one escorting Tabitha Riley out of NCIS, his hand gripping her bicep as he steered her toward the armored escort vehicle. He'd been the one the stranger had approached, the 9mm Glock never wavering in the man's hand as he pointed it at Gibbs and demanded Tabitha's release. He'd been the one to antagonize the man, pointing out the armed officers already beginning to cut off his escape route.

But it had been McGee who had dropped to the ground with a grunt of pain as a bullet ripped through his chest.

It is a grunt of pain currently coming from the man lying in front of him that pulls Gibbs out of his memory.

"Tim?"

McGee's eyes open slowly. "Boss?"

"Yeah, Tim." Gibbs leans over and offers a cup of water to McGee, bending the straw so Tim hardly has to move to drink.

"Wha' happn'd?" he groggily asks after taking a few sips. His skin his gray. His eyes are bloodshot.

"You got shot. You pushed me out of the way. Do you remember?"

"Yes," McGee answers after a few moments. "'Course I did. 'S not your time yet."

Gibbs carefully sets the water back down, his eyebrow raising in confusion. "What was that?"

"Or maybe it was?" McGee continues, and Gibbs isn't entirely sure his agent is fully present. "May… oh, maybe it _was_ your time, and I was selfish 'n screwed ev'rythin' up. You jus' weren't ready… no, no tha's not right… 'm the one who wasn't ready."

"McGee, I'm going to call the nurse. You just –"

"'M sorry, Gibbs. Izzit 'cus you're my last? Or was Phanuel right olla long? My life b'fore was so similar, so I'm confused? This has never happened to me b'fore. I'm so… muddled. And tired. Sooo tired."

Gibbs shakes his head, concerned. "Just rest, Tim."

McGee yawns. "Not much of a Watcher now, am I?"

He mumbles some more, but Gibbs can't make it out, and before he can ask about it, McGee has fallen back asleep.

Gibbs settles back in his chair and stares out the window. The sun is fully up now, and he knows the director will want a report. Gibbs stands, giving his sleeping agent one last look before he leaves the room, pushing down the gut feeling telling him that all is not what it seems.

0-0-0-0-0

 **27 –** _ **What is that?**_

Gibbs updates the director on McGee's status and then bypasses the bullpen completely, choosing instead to take the elevator down to autopsy.

"Ah, Jethro, how is young Timothy?" Ducky asks as soon as Gibbs is through the door.

"He's fine, Duck. Docs say he'll be discharged tomorrow." Gibbs walks over to where Dr. Mallard is seated and pulls out a chair to join him. "Have you ever heard of the term _watchers_?"

"Watchers?" Ducky leans back in his chair and raises his eyebrows. "Yes, of course. From the book of Enoch, Watchers are described as angels who are dispatched to Earth to watch over mortals."

"Angels," Gibbs repeats.

"Indeed," Ducky says with a smile. "Also referred to as sons of God, or even fallen angels. Many are of the belief that they eventually seceded from Heaven and stayed among us, procreating with women and teaching the human race various arts and skills."

Gibbs isn't sure what he'd been expecting, but the possibility of Tim being an angel certainly wasn't it. Dozens of possibilities had run through his head during his drive back to NCIS, ranging from a covert CIA group to some sort of video game cult. But this… this is impossible.

"Are you quite all right Jethro? You have gone deathly pale. Here, let me fix you some tea."

Gibbs let Ducky fuss over him, staring off at nothing as he processed the possibility of Tim not being human. Even considering it was ridiculous. Tim had been on some strong pain medication, and the logical explanation is that he was mumbling complete nonsense.

Accepting a cup of tea and letting Ducky's words wash over him, Gibbs lets the matter rest. For now.

0-0-0-0-0

 **28 –** _ **You are too much for me…**_

"There have been discussions."

Timothy raises his bed to ease the pain in his chest. "Pan, you're stalling. Just tell me."

"Regarding iudicium."

"A judgement? Of what, my character? My choices?" Timothy wills his breathing to slow, his anger barely held in check. "You can't pull me out now. I'm far too invested in this."

"I think that's exactly the heart of the matter," Pan points out. "You're too invested. Too emotionally attached. I've done what I can to keep you here, but you should know that even with your unblemished reputation, there are others who are concerned that you're deliberately sabotaging this assignment."

Timothy is shocked speechless at the accusation.

"I hardly see how –"

"You stepped in front of a projectile, Timothy!" Pan shouts. "One that was marked for someone else. It is not up to you to choose when a chosen person dies."

Timothy's chest heaves. "It's hardly unprecedented," he counters. His argument is weak, even to his own ears. Pan must see the revelation in his face because his friend leans forward and grasps Timothy's hand.

"As I said, I have done what I can to keep you here. But be aware, Watcher, that there are others now deeply invested in this assignment."

0-0-0-0-0

 **29 –** _ **Recompense…**_

It hurts to sleep lying flat.

It hurts to shift into a more comfortable position.

In general, it hurts to be alive.

Despite the advice of his doctors that he remain parallel to the floor, Tim cannot stand to sleep in Gibbs' guest bedroom any longer and he manages to move himself into a recliner in the living room instead. 'Moving himself' may be too generous of a description, as Tim is wheezing by the time he is halfway down the hall and Gibbs has to help him get the rest of the way.

He spends his days watching television on Gibbs' tiny set, more often than not dozing off during a re-run of People's Court or Perry Mason.

At first, Tim thought that Gibbs had offered to let Tim stay with him as some sort of remuneration for saving his life. But as the days go by, Tim modifies his theory. He's certain that Gibbs would do this for any of his agents, regardless of the circumstances surrounding their injury.

Gibbs is around a lot, though the two men hardly exchange more than a handful of words per day. It's not awkward, though. It's almost… nice.

It is obvious that there is something on Gibbs' mind, and Tim is tempted to ask, but he doesn't. He decides to let it go, knowing that his boss will bring it up if it's important. He chooses instead to focus his wandering attention on Bonanza.

He really likes this episode.

0-0-0-0-0

 **30 –** _ **All truths wait in all things…**_

It's been five days since his release, and Tim is still on the good drugs, so it really isn't fair when Gibbs stands in front of Tim's recliner, hands him a mug of hot tea, and asks, "McGee, what is a Watcher?"

0-0-0-0-0


	4. Chapter 4

**31 –** _ **In vain…**_

"Why are you here?"

"I can't tell you that."

"But you don't deny that you are some sort of, what… an angel?"

"Of a sort."

"Do you know how crazy that sounds?"

"And I'm sorry about that, boss."

"Rule number forty-two: Never accept an apology from someone who just sucker-punched you."

"What? I haven't –"

"You've been lying to be this whole time, McGee! Do I even call you McGee? Or do you go by some other angel name like Michael or Gabriel?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I _am_ Tim McGee."

Tim cannot believe he's taking this kind of tone with Gibbs... and getting away with it, too. Tim can't believe he's talking to Gibbs about this at all, now that he thinks about it. But he's trying not to think about the huge fiasco that this assignment has turned into.

"No, I don't think so. You can't be both McGee and _not_ McGee."

"I can, and I am," Tim says patiently. They've been going around and around for the past hour; Gibbs growing more agitated by the second, and Tim in desperate need of another pain pill the longer he's forced to sit and argue his existence. "I know you don't like apologies, but I am sorry. I can't explain it any better than I already have because humans aren't _meant_ to understand. It is beyond your ability to comprehend. It's like explaining the color red to a blind man, or the true nature of a blade of grass to a child!"

Tim winces with the pain, but he continues, knowing he has to at least try to get Gibbs to understand this one, vital piece.

"But believe me when I say that I am Tim McGee. I am not some parasite who has taken over his body as a host, or whatever other ideas you have thrown my way tonight. I was raised by a loving mother and a domineering father who was, and still is, disappointed in my choice of career. I have a sister who I almost quit my job in order to save. I have a dream of one day leading my own team for NCIS. I put up with Tony's jokes and nicknames every day because he's my best friend. These are all _mine_ , because I am Tim McGee. Don't you see?"

"But you are not of earth," Gibbs semi-asks, and Tim desperately curbs the sigh that wants to escape.

"No."

"And you're here for a specific reason."

"Yes."

"Which is?"

Tim does sigh this time, which agitates his lungs and sends him into a coughing fit. Holding a pillow tightly to his chest, Tim breathes through the pain. "Would you believe me if I said I was here to help you?"

"Help me?" Gibbs parrots. " _Help_ me?"

"Didn't think so," Tim mumbles, eyeing his medicine on the coffee table halfway across the room. He points at the pill bottle, asking, "Would you mind –"

"Where was your help when Shannon and Kelly were murdered?" Gibbs interrupts, his voice deadly and quiet, but he's pacing and ranting and his voice gets louder and louder and Tim can't look away. "Where was your _help_ when Kate was shot in the head? What about Jenny? What about Mike Franks? Where was your almighty help then, huh?"

"It doesn't work like that," Tim admits and it only fuels Gibbs' rage.

"I want you out of here by morning," Gibbs orders as he storms down the stairs, leaving nothing but contempt behind for Tim.

0-0-0-0-0

 **32 –** _ **Lie awake in the dark…**_

Tim can't sleep.

He thought it rather generous that Gibbs gave him until the morning to leave, but he's not quite certain how he'll get home, even with the extra four or five hours until dawn breaks. Anyone he calls for a ride will want an explanation about why he's leaving Gibbs' house in the middle of the night, and he can't think of a single reason that sounds plausible.

The part of his brain not currently numbed by Percocet tells him that there is no way his boss will toss an invalid out on his own…

The other part of his brain tells him to suck it up, get out of the chair, and catch a ride back to his apartment before he encounters Gibbs before his morning cup of coffee.

0-0-0-0-0

 **33 –** _ **I in the middle…**_

"Well this is certainly quite a conundrum," Pan says right after the door closes behind Sarah.

Tim hadn't wanted to call his sister, but he truly had no other options. Thankfully she hadn't asked too many questions about why he needed to make a hasty exit from his boss' home and had driven Tim back to his apartment with nothing more than a few complaints about being woken up in the middle of the night.

"Hardly," Timothy exhales as he gingerly lowers himself onto the couch. He thinks about taking off his shoes, but that would involve moving again, and he's not sure he has it in him at this point. "I'm sure it's just one more reason in favor of pulling me from this assignment."

"Not at all," Pan disagrees. "We are well beyond that now. No other Watcher could possibly take your place. I am afraid you are stuck here, my friend, until the job is finished. A human, knowing about a Watcher, while still living. Such a thing has never happened before. I am just thankful you did not disclose your true nature to Leroy."

Timothy glares at Pan. "I would hope my standing would at least afford me some benefit of the doubt. I would _never_ betray the Watchers in such a fashion, Pan, you _must_ know that."

"I do," Pan says after a short pause. "Timothy… a long time ago, you had asked me why I had chosen you for this assignment."

"You said Gibbs was important."

"Yes I did," Pan nods, "and you agreed that his case was special and needed someone with your kind of experience. That was true. But I also wanted you to take his case for another reason.

Tim sends a withering glance at Pan. "Which is?"

"To save yourself."

"I don't understand."

Pan sighs. "I know your past few assignments have been hard on you. The excitement and gratification you once got from being a Watcher has long since been drained. It may have been missed by others, but you've been my friend for a long time and I can see the changes in you. You've lost your faith."

"No," Timothy denies, but the denial sounds hollow.

Pan smiles in sympathy. "I had hoped that being assigned to Gibbs would change all that."

"How?"

Pan laughs. "You must see the similarities between the two of you. The bitterness. The ability to close everyone off so that you exist alone, on an island of seclusion, keeping your anger and cynicism locked up so tight within the walls of self-preservation you have carefully built brick by brick. You have lost your way, my friend."

"Pan," Timothy stops, heartbroken. "Is that truly how others see me?"

"I know you wish for the Choice, my friend, and I also wish that for you if that is what you still desire. You have long-past earned that right, and I can name no other who is more deserving than you." Pan takes a moment to lock eyes with Timothy, the importance of the words being spoken carrying such weight that Timothy's shoulders slumps with them. "But I want you to make your decision with a clear head, not a heavy heart. It is my greatest fear that you will choose poorly in haste… one that you will ultimately regret."

"'There are no regrets here,'" Timothy quotes. "'Only lessons learned.'"

"We both know that isn't quite true," Pan says kindly. "Free will is a gift given to us all. But none of us are free from the consequences of our choices."

"You think I will change my mind and not go through with the Choice?"

Pan's response is soft and sincere. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, I will know that I have done what I can to best prepare you for what lies ahead."

"I wasn't aware we had Watchers for the Watchers, Pan."

Pan laughs. "No. But we do have friends looking out for friends. Don't you agree?"

Timothy smiles. "Thank you."

0-0-0-0-0

 **34 –** _ **The price…**_

Months pass.

Physical therapy is grueling, but Tim is determined to get back to work as soon as possible. He gets stronger day by day, and eventually he is upgraded from desk duty to field work.

Though his body has mended, his relationship with Gibbs has not. He doesn't think anyone at work notices. It's not like he and Gibbs had a close relationship to begin with. But the strain is there, every day, but Timothy is not easily deterred.

Timothy hasn't spoken with Pan since the night Gibbs kicked him out, but his friend's words have stuck with him.

He will finish this assignment, and finish it well. He will guide Gibbs through this life and up to the Choice, whenever that time may come. And then, when it's all over, Timothy will have his own choice to make.

0-0-0-0-0

 **35 –** _ **Ten o'clock at night…**_

Once upon a time, Tim had enjoyed stake outs. Staying up all night, playing with high-tech gear, drinking far too much caffeine… it all held a particular allure that probably spoke to his inner thirteen-year-old who used to do that on a regular basis.

Then, of course, there were stake outs with Tony. Those often took on a life of their own.

However, nothing killed his love of stake outs more than having to endure one with Gibbs. At least stake outs with Tony had a sense of playfulness to them. The pranks. The desire to out-do one another. But also the comradery that came after a job well done. Sitting next to Gibbs in an agency sedan was nearly unbearable under normal circumstances. Right now it could probably be certified as torture with the never ending silence and frequent glares.

But Timothy had vowed to guide Gibbs. No one said it would be an easy road.

"I wasn't raised religious," he says. He never takes his eyes off the house across the street, but from his peripheral vision, he can see how Gibbs tenses. "I mean, mom always took Sarah and I to church on Christmas Eve, and occasionally on Easter, but that was really it for us. But I kind of felt that was enough, you know? I mean, people can still believe in a higher power without the structure of religion, right?"

There's no response from Gibbs, but Tim hadn't really expected one, so he rambles on.

"As a Watcher, everything revolves around structure. So you can probably imagine that it is a bit of a challenge to have these differing points of view. So much so that I often think there is little hope for humans on earth. Why help a people who clearly don't want it? And the ones that want help, well, they only want it if you plan on doing it their way. ' _Your will be done_ , _as long as it's down the rosy-colored path that I've already chosen_. _If not, then… no thanks!_ ' And then what happens when things don't go their way? They are confused about their unhappiness, and when they can't find an acceptable solution, they look for someone else to blame."

"Then why do it?" Tim turns to look at Gibbs, who is staring at him with a guarded expression as he repeats his question. "Why help people if they clearly don't want it?"

Tim looks back out the window when he answers. "Because just because they don't want it, doesn't mean they don't need it."

Gibbs huffs in disgust. "Is that why you're here? To give me help you think I _need_?"

"Well, I –"

"What do you want from me, McGee?" Gibbs shouts.

"Nothing," Tim answers with as much sincerity has he can muster. "I want nothing from you. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that you don't have to _do_ anything, Gibbs. I'm not asking anything of you. You are free to do whatever you want. But just like those people who act before thinking, who ask for help when they don't really want it in the first place, _you_ will never be free from the consequences of your choices if you don't –"

"If I don't what, McGee? Ask for forgiveness?"

"No," Tim says, shaking his head sadly. "If you don't forgive yourself."

Gibbs looks torn, and Tim has never seen his boss so unguarded before. It's both heartbreaking and breathtaking because Tim knows, he _knows_ , that Gibbs is starting to understand.

The look is fleeting and the mask is firmly back in place when a car pulls into the driveway of the house they are surveilling and Tim's heart drops at the broken moment.

0-0-0-0-0

 **36 –** _ **The corpse of the child…**_

"I was overseas when it happened."

Tim looks up from the report he's typing to look at Gibbs. His pallor hasn't improved much over the past hour, meaning he's still as white as the sheets he's lying on. Gibbs hasn't asked why Tim insisted on accompanying him to the hospital, nor has he asked why Tim has remained at his bedside while he waits to be discharged.

Tim likes to think that maybe their relationship over these past few months has morphed into one that allows Gibbs to be more comfortable with Tim's presence. It's more likely that Gibbs tolerates Tim's company because he thinks he'll be able wear him down and get some answers.

Tim closes the lid of his laptop and gives Gibbs his full attention. "When what happened?"

"Shannon and Kelly," Gibbs offers as an answer and Tim bows his head in acknowledgement. "There was nothing I could do for them."

Tim shakes his head. "That's not true, though. You honor their memory with what you do. With what you did today. You saved Corporal Raynott's daughter, nearly at the cost of your own life." Tim points at Gibbs stomach, where he knows the sheets cover up layers of bandages protecting the most recent of Gibbs' wounds. "You saw Kelly in that girl's face, didn't you?"

Gibbs doesn't answer and Tim decides not to push, so the two agents fall into silence once more. It isn't long before a nurse comes in with paperwork allowing Gibbs to be released. Tim gathers up his belongings, sliding his laptop into his bag and snatching up his coat, while Gibbs slips into the bathroom to get dressed.

"I won't apologize for Hernandez," Gibbs declares from behind the closed door.

"I wouldn't expect you to," Tim says, raising his voice to be heard. "Apologies are a sign of weakness, after all."

0-0-0-0-0

 **37 –** _ **And keep watch…**_

The team almost loses Gibbs in Roanoke.

Tim isn't nearby when it happens, as he had been relegated to the perimeter for this particular operation. But he hears the gunshot and he's sprinting away from the surveillance van well before he hears Tony frantically call for an ambulance through his earpiece.

He arrives in time to see Ellie apprehending the suspect, but he only has eyes for Gibbs, on the ground, with Tony's hands pressing firmly down over a bleeding hole in his thigh.

"Not dead yet, Tim," Gibbs says when he catches Tim's eye, his eyes glassy and his words slurred. But Gibbs smiles before unconsciousness drags him back under and Tim shakes his head in wonderment because he knows…

He knows it will be soon.

0-0-0-0-0

 **38 –** _ **Enough! enough! enough!**_

"Gibbs just will not die!"

"Timothy!"

"I'm sorry Pan. Of course I do not _wish_ for his demise, but c'mon! The man has cheated death more times than can be humanly possible! First there was the bombing… wait, now there have been two! Two bombings, he nearly drowns, don't even get me started on the trip to Afghanistan because I think he was nearly shot twice there… Let's not forget the stabbing… This has got to be the longest assignment on record."

"You've had longer," Pan counters. "Remember Antinko Popov?"

Timothy snorts. "I try not to."

0-0-0-0-0

 **39 –** _ **Waiting…**_

The wait is over.

The time has come.

If Timothy was a betting man, he would never have put money down on Gibbs surviving as long as he has. His job was dangerous. He consistently put others' safety before his own. He had been shot at and blown up more times than any human had any right to be.

He endured it all.

But all lives do eventually come to an end.

Timothy always knew he would be by Gibbs' side when the moment came. And he is, even if it isn't exactly what he had expected.

Timothy knows he has fulfilled his role on Earth. Oh, there is much more to be done once they leave, but this part of the mission is nearly over. He has prepared Gibbs as best as he is able… the Choice will ultimately be his.

He has no regrets, even if this assignment has left him with more uncertainty than ever before, and he goes forward with more questions than answers.

And if Tim McGee is going to die alongside his boss, he doesn't think he would have had it any other way.

0-0-0-0-0

 **40 –** _ **When I give, I give myself…**_

"What happened?"

"I don't… I don't know! One minute he was standing next to me, and the next…"

"Shhhh, it's okay, Bishop, calm down."

"I should have stopped him!"

"He wouldn't have let you. C'mon, sit down before you fall down. The paramedics will want to take a look at you."

"The flames were so high. We could feel the heat in the parking lot. Why would he go in there, Tony?"

"He must have gone in after McGee."

"But… there's no way… Gibbs had to have known…"

"Known what?"

"That it was pointless. I'm sorry, Tony, but there's no way anyone survived."

0-0-0-0-0


	5. Chapter 5

**41 –** _ **I heard what was said…**_

Timothy wakes to familiar walls and the feeling of peace that washes over him is immediately soothing, like a voice welcoming him home.

0-0-0-0-0

 **42 –** _ **A call in the midst of the crowd…**_

Gibbs wakes to unfamiliar walls, but the feeling of peace that washes over him is immediately soothing, like a voice welcoming him home.

0-0-0-0-0

 **43 –** _ **I take my place among you…**_

"Hello Gibbs."

"Hello McGee." Gibbs looks confused for a moment, but then a smirk crosses his face. "Do I even call you McGee anymore?"

"McGee is fine," Timothy says with a smile. "Or Tim. Whatever you're most comfortable with."

"Okay," Gibbs nods. "Where are we?"

"Let me show you." Timothy sweeps out his arm, indicating the door to Gibbs' room, and the two men walk out into the corridor.

They walk down familiar paths and Timothy is surprised at how few questions Gibbs asks along the way. His companion takes everything in, listening carefully as Timothy points out a few items of interest, but his attention wanders each time they cross the threshold into a new room or when another Watcher passes them by.

The number of humans Timothy has acclimated are too numerous to count, but the reactions are generally the same. Confusion. Awe. Curiosity. It's true that Gibbs has always been quiet, but Timothy had expected rapid fire questions once they'd arrived. He'd certainly spent the last few years on Earth probing the Watcher every chance he got, but was always left disappointed when Timothy failed to expound on his true purpose.

Timothy wonders what is holding Gibbs back, but knows pushing will only drive the man further away. The next location Timothy usually takes his charges to is the commissary, but something tells him that Gibbs needs something a bit more grandiose. He alters their route so that they head toward the outer walls of the compound, where the ceilings are higher and light streams in from stained glass windows.

"It's beautiful," Gibbs whispers, and Timothy can't help but agree. The balcony they've stepped onto offers one of the grandest views of the grounds. "I guess I always knew Heaven would be beautiful, but this…"

"This isn't Heaven," Timothy corrects.

"It's not? But… I thought…"

"I know," Timothy says kindly. And the relieved look on Gibbs' face makes everything clear. "Ah. I see. That is why you've been so quiet. You've been looking for your family."

Gibbs stares down Timothy, but he will not wilt under the intense look. The silent glare is enough of an answer, and he will not push Gibbs for a verbal confirmation that isn't needed.

"It's a common mistake," Timothy reassures him. "Gibbs, the truth is that this place is merely a pit stop, of a sort. Your journey isn't quite over. You must choose which path you wish to take next."

"I don't understand."

Timothy turns away from Gibbs and stares out at the sprawling landscape. "We call it the Choice."

0-0-0-0-0

 **44 –** _ **Into the unknown…**_

"Any change?"

"None."

"The doctor said that –"

"I know what the doctor said, Ellie."

"Tony, I –"

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just… I've lost so many people I care about. Too many. I don't want to lose any more. You understand?"

"Of course. There's still a chance…"

"I know."

0-0-0-0-0

 **45 –** _ **My rendezvous is appointed…**_

"In the simplest of terms, you now have the opportunity to select your destiny."

Timothy and Gibbs have finally made their way to the commissary. Quiet conversations provide a hum of background noise and no one looks their way after they've settled in at a corner table. The Watcher is glad that he has not changed his appearance to look any different than Tim McGee. Not only is it more comfortable for Gibbs, but it prevents gawking and allows for a greater level of privacy.

"What are my options?" Gibbs asks.

"Option one is to return to Earth."

"Like reincarnation?"

Timothy laughs. "No, not at all. Would it be surprising to learn that Leroy Jethro Gibbs still lives? You are currently in a coma, and the prognosis is uncertain. Should you choose to return to Earth, you would make nothing short of a sudden and miraculous recovery and continue to live your life."

"And Tim? He's… you're… still alive?"

"Uh, yes. I'm in the same boat as you, as it were."

Gibbs leans back in his chair and crosses his arms on his chest. "Okay. What else?"

"If you choose that option, you will not remember anything of this place or the conversations we have here." At Gibbs' nod, Timothy continues. "Upon your return to Earth, you will of course eventually die, as all humans do, and you will not be granted a second choice. You will simply move on."

"Move… on?" Gibbs leans forward with interest. "As in –"

"Yes," Timothy replies, leaning forward as well. "That is the second option of the Choice. But Gibbs, I cannot stress this next part enough: I have no knowledge of what, or who, may be waiting for you beyond should you choose this option. So I urge you not to flippantly make a decision based on who has passed before you. Do you understand?"

Gibbs looks disappointed for only a moment, but then his coolness returns and he eases back into his seat. Timothy can't help but feel the same confidence that Gibbs is radiating. He has no doubt that Shannon and Kelly will be there to greet him as he makes his transition. Unless, of course, they had been tagged for recruitment. But the odds of that are astronomical.

"All right," Gibbs says with a nod. "Where do I sign?"

Timothy shakes his head. "Not so fast, boss. For one thing, no one should make their choice without thinking it over first. And for another… you have a third option. One that isn't offered to many." Gibbs waves his hand in a _get on with it_ gesture, and Timothy sits up straighter. "We would like for you to consider becoming a Watcher."

Timothy feels a little proud when he's able to take Gibbs by surprise. He doesn't telecast it, but the slight widening of Gibbs' eyes gives it all away.

"Me? Become a Watcher?" Gibbs narrows his eyes. "Why?"

Timothy shrugs. "Does there need to be a specific reason?" Apparently there does, as Gibbs' eyes narrow even further. "Recruitment into the Watcher program isn't science, Gibbs. There are simply those on Earth who are chosen. It doesn't happen often, and even when it does, there is no guarantee that becoming a Watcher is the path a person chooses. It is a very specific calling. You will have to be the one who decides if you wish to accept it or not."

"Is that why you were sent to me? To recruit me into your little Watcher program?"

Timothy bites back the reflexive retort he wishes to give ( _little Watcher program? really?_ ). "Gibbs, I was assigned to you for one purpose: to ease your pain through your final days on Earth in preparation for the Choice. You cheated death so many times, I never thought it would take so long to get to this point, yet here we finally are. I did not, and I will not, offer you counsel on which path you should take. The choice is yours."

"So I can decide what to do?"

"Yes."

"And then what?"

Timothy's smile is bittersweet. "And then my job as your Watcher is complete."

0-0-0-0-0

 **46 –** _ **I answer that I cannot answer…**_

"You've done well with Leroy."

"Thank you, Pan."

"Do you have any indications of what he will choose?"

"He has a wife and daughter I am quite convinced are waiting for him," the Watcher says without hesitation. "He'll choose to move on."

"And you, my friend? What will you choose?"

"I… I am uncertain."

0-0-0-0-0

 **47 –** _ **Those that know me seek me…**_

"Watcher."

"Good evening, Watcher."

"Welcome back, Watcher."

Timothy nods to each of them in turn, his regret growing with each step he takes, wishing he hadn't emerged from his impromptu meeting with Pan in his usual form.

"McGee?"

Timothy spins around and sees Gibbs leaning against a pillar. He's thankful he can't blush as he watches Gibbs take in his appearance.

"You look… different."

Timothy sighs. "Yes, well…" He suddenly feels a nervousness that he hasn't experienced since the first few months on Gibbs' team. "I can change back if you need me to…"

"No, don't do that for me," Gibbs says, walking forward to close the distance between them. "You shouldn't hide who you are just to make me feel comfortable."

Timothy offers Gibbs a small smile of thanks before leading Gibbs down the passageway.

"You're important here."

"I'm really not."

"Clearly these people look up to you," Gibbs says, sweeping an arm out to encompass fellow Watchers who are walking by a bit too slowly to be considered casual.

"I've just been doing this a long time. They will forget about me soon enough."

"I doubt that," Gibbs says, and then he pauses and steps in front of Timothy. "Why would they forget about you? Are you going someplace?"

Timothy sighs. "I am also being awarded the Choice," he explains. "You were my last assignment."

0-0-0-0-0

 **48 –** _ **Yet understand God not in the least…**_

"I met Tim's mom today."

"Yeah?"

"She said that Tim has a DNR order in his records."

"I know. So does Gibbs."

"But that means, if they continue to go downhill…"

"I know."

"I don't understand. It's not fair! To get them out of that fire… to have them live, only to still die… What was the point?"

"Maybe to give us a chance to say goodbye."

"I don't want to say goodbye."

0-0-0-0-0

 **49 –** _ **No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before…**_

"If I choose to go back to Earth, then doesn't that mean your time with me was just a big waste?"

Timothy raises one eyebrow at the question. "Hardly."

They've spent the morning wandering through the grounds together. Gibbs has finally started asking a lot of questions about the Choice and the potential outcomes for each option. Timothy knows it's the investigator in him, but he's a bit surprised at Gibbs' thoroughness. He had originally thought that Gibbs would have taken a short amount of deliberation time, but ultimately decide to move on. Apparently he is taking Timothy's advice of thinking it over to heart.

"What was the purpose of having me talk about Shannon and Kelly? Why all that talk about forgiving myself when it didn't matter in the end?"

"Of course it mattered," Timothy argues. "The Choice is not to be taken lightly. You have to relieve yourself of all things that tie you to your previous life in order to move onto your new one with purity of heart and spirit. Your guilt was holding you back."

"And what is holding you back, Tim?" Gibbs gives him an insightful look. "You haven't told me what choice you are making."

Timothy avoids Gibbs' eyes as best he can as he bends over and picks up a rock, only to toss it back down onto the path again. "It is different for a Watcher. I do not have a life in which to return."

"You are the one who kept insisting that you are Tim McGee," Gibbs counters. "Doesn't that mean you could return to that life?"

"In theory, yes," Timothy nods. "But I will also lose all memory of this place if I do. I am… tentative about letting go of my history here. Additionally, there is no precedent for a Watcher returning to Earth. The small number of Watchers who have been granted the Choice have all chosen to move on. I always anticipated doing the same."

"You still haven't answered my question. You said it was my guilt that was holding me back from making a good decision," Gibbs says. "So what is it that's holding _you_ back?"

Timothy is silent for a long period of time, but Gibbs waits patiently for an answer. Timothy knows he could easily sidestep the question and placate Gibbs with a simple response, but he's tired of denying himself the truth.

"It's you, boss," Timothy says honestly.

0-0-0-0-0

 **50 –** _ **It is happiness…**_

"I don't understand."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'll… do my best to explain, though I'm not really sure I understand it myself." Timothy leads them to a bench and waits for Gibbs to sit down before he joins him. "I've been a Watcher for a very long time."

"You mentioned that before."

Timothy shakes his head. "What I mean is… I am one of the first. There are very few who have done it longer than me, and those who have, were never human. I am the first to have been recruited." Gibbs nods slowly in understanding. "I have asked to be granted the Choice for many, many years. Long since before you, or your father, or your father's father was born. It wasn't until I was assigned to you that it was agreed that you would be my final assignment. And I'll be honest, Gibbs… I was overjoyed that I would never again have to live a life on Earth that was not originally my own. I was ready to move on."

"And now?" Gibbs interjects. "You said you _were_ ready. Are you still?"

"I'm not as ready as I thought I was," Timothy admits. "This assignment… being Tim McGee… has changed me in ways that I never predicted. Pan, er… Phanuel, a friend, stated it was because I was similar to Tim McGee. But I'm not sure that's it. Maybe in part, but –"

"You're losing me, McGee. What are you saying?"

"It doesn't matter," Timothy states. "What matters is I felt so intertwined with the life I was living, I found that I didn't want it to end. I've never felt that way before. Never. And it jeopardized what I was doing, putting you in danger of leaving that life behind without being prepared… all because of my connection to you. Well, you and Tony, Ellie… and Sarah and my family… all of it."

Gibbs is quiet, and Timothy knows he isn't explaining it well, but the more he talks, the better he understands it himself.

"I was bitter," he continues. "At humanity. At being denied what I wanted for so long. At the _status_ I had acquired among the Watchers. All of it. Not once did I ever think I would be in this position, talking to a potential recruit, and admitting that I am actually considering returning to Earth."

Timothy shakes his head in amusement and he smiles at Gibbs. "Phanuel was concerned my bitterness would affect my ability to make the Choice with a clear head. But now I've realized that is actually _you_ , Gibbs. You and the team you asked me to join. But it might not be a bad thing like I had feared. I was happy there. Maybe I'm not ready to give that up."

"And if I am ready to give that all up?" Gibbs asks quietly. "If I choose to move on, will that change your mind about returning to Earth?"

"I can't say with certainty that I wouldn't keep it mind. I wanted to be on your team, Gibbs. From that first case in Norfolk, I knew it's where I wanted to be."

"But if you return, you won't remember all of this," Gibbs reminds him. "You won't remember that you wanted to be on my team because I was your assignment."

Timothy shakes his head. "It was Tim McGee's dream… _my_ dream… to be an NCIS agent. I'd want to be on your team, Gibbs. Even if I don't remember that small part of the reason I wanted to be on it in the first place."

Time passes as they sit in silence. Timothy knows Gibbs is getting close to finalizing his decision.

"I guess we're more alike than I thought," Gibbs observes quietly. "I thought I knew what I wanted to do. Now I'm not so sure. Not because of what you said," Gibbs interrupts the objection Timothy was about to start. "Not entirely. You are right, though. We are a good team. You. Me. Tony and Ellie. Hell, even Vance. There is good work still to be done, and I don't like leaving a job half-finished. But moving on… well, as you can imagine, that has a certain appeal for me."

"I know."

"And though I respect what you do here, I'm not really sure it's for me."

"I understand," Timothy says. "As I said, it is a calling."

Gibbs takes another long look around them and stands. Timothy joins him.

"Enough talk. I'm ready."

Timothy grins. "So let me officially ask you this question," Timothy starts and he places his hands on both of Gibbs' shoulders. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs, have you made your choice?"

"Yes," Gibbs responds solemnly.

"Then we must go."

0-0-0-0-0

 **51 –** _ **I stay only a minute longer…**_

"Is saying _I told you so_ considered bad form in a moment such as this?"

Timothy laughs. "When has that ever held you back in the past? I take it this means you are unsurprised by my decision?"

"Not in the least," Pan declares smartly. "I am thankful that you have made your choice with clarity, of mind, spirit and soul. Though I will miss you, my friend."

Timothy forgoes ceremony and pulls Pan into a hug. "I will miss you too." They pull apart. "Do you think… is it possible that we will see each other again?"

"All things are possible to him who believes," Pan answers.

0-0-0-0-0

 **52 –** _ **I stop somewhere, waiting for you…**_

"Ellie? It's Tony. You need to get to the hospital right away. You're not going to believe this."

0-0-0-0-0

 _ **The End.**_


End file.
